sleep
by autumnsoliloquy
Summary: You try and forget.  spoilers for 423-424


**Title: Sleep**

**Author: autumnsoliloquy**

**Warning: M/ PG-13 (suggestive themes), mega angst, spoilers for Chapter 423-424**

**Summary: You try and forget.**

**Disclaimer: Bleach is not mine. Unbeta-ed.**

Xxxxxxxxx

You are not sad.

This was what you wanted, wasn't it? A normal life. A life of a normal person without supernatural ability. A life of ordinary, of silence, tranquility of the mind.

You do not regret, for there is nothing to regret. You've always wanted to save mountain loads of people. You've always dreamed of having the power to protect the people you love, even the strangers you have just met or never will meet, because that was what your name was supposed to signify, wasn't it? The one who protects. You have lived up to that name that your father bequeathed you; you have nothing more to be ashamed of yourself. And now you are to rest. You are free. As you were always supposed to be, before everything happened. Before you met her.

You are not sad.

No, you have forgotten. You do not remember the blackness of those robes, the weight of that sword slung on your shoulders, the feeling of the wind against your face with your lightning steps, the smell of the reishi in the air. You have forgotten the shade of her raven hair, the colour of her piercing eyes, her feather light body on your back; you don't remember anymore the words she spoke of utmost belief and confidence in you, nor the feeling of her reiatsu in the vicinity.

You are not sad.

Repeat it to yourself as many times, and one day you'd believe it.

One day, you'd forget that you even forgot.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It has been a while.

You've even stopped counting the days, the months, the years. What's the date today again? Ah, you've forgotten to do your laundry again. That's one of the unfortunate consequences of living alone. Technically, you are not living alone, for if you were truly honest with yourself, you find yourself living in the hospital.

Being a doctor makes you feel alive again.

You are desensitized towards death. You don't shed a tear for the dying. You know that paradise is not waiting for them, and yet you almost feel a sense of envy as patients come and go.

You do not feel anything.

This is what you've always wanted. The whiteness of your coat, the sterile smell of disinfectant, the smiling gratitude of patients who have to be stuck in this world with you for a while longer, that familiar routine. Sleep, wake up, repeat process.

You have forgotten everything.

And then, you see it. There on the drawing block of your young patient who is rambling on and on descriptively about the artist, a stranger visitor; there you see the unmistakeable curves and lines of what only a familiar eye would recognize as a bunny rabbit.

Then all the memories start flooding back.

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You can't remember how it all started.

All you know was that there you were, lying on your back on the soft mattress, your eyes closed to the darkness of the night which rendered you blind.

Then you felt it, a soft caress across your face; it might have been the wind from the open window, you think, but you remember that feeling from a lifetime ago. You realize you've never really forgotten.

Your hands grasp in the thin air and there she was, your fingers curling around her thin invisible wrists. Your skin burns with the realization that this is your first contact in a long time, like rain on a parched desert after a long drought.

You remember her height and imagine how she looks like in front of you. Your fingers reach for her face, tracing invisible lines on her skin. You desperately touch every inch of her, the ridges and contours of her body, her button nose, her lips, the tear-soaked skin of her cheeks; you remember the colour of her soft hair, of her eyes. Past the hollow of her collarbone, the fabric of her robes, the coldness of her smooth skin. From then on, you have nothing more to remember. Instead you imprint in your memories the softness of her small breasts, the flat of her stomach, the feeling of her lips against your own, the moistness of her welcome.

You pull her down with you but you can't see her in the darkness. It doesn't matter because you don't see her even in the warm light. You realize you have been blind ever since she disappeared from your life.

Your hands roam and explore every inch of unexplored skin. You can't see her but you can taste her sweetness, feel her softness beneath you. You feel her cold touch on your skin, the ghost of her kisses leaving burning sensations on your body. You move against her in a desperate wild abandon; you want to make her moans of pleasure loud enough until they reach your ears, but you never hear them.

The moistness of her lips, her tightly-clenched muscles gripping you like a lifeline, the feeling of her embrace are the only proof to you that she's real.

You remember how it feels like to be alive again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The grasp of his muscular arms around your body is tight, as if he never wants to let go. You don't want him to let go, but you know one day, he would. You hope that one day, he finally would.

You don't regret, because nothing pertaining to him had ever caused you regret.

He pretends to be asleep, but you know he doesn't want to sleep in case you vanish from his arms. Besides, you remember his snores vividly wafting through the closet when he sleeps.

He doesn't say a single word the whole time; he doesn't ask you the questions "Why are you here?" or "Why didn't you come before?" or "Will you stay?"

You know he doesn't need the answers to those questions. You whisper the words you've always wanted to say to his chest, willing them to penetrate the cage of ribs and bones within to reach his heart.

He doesn't hear them. But it doesn't matter anyway. They never had need for words after all.

For now you allow yourself to forget the reality and let yourself think that perhaps this could be forever, if you just believe it enough.

So you close your eyes and sleep.


End file.
